


Pitched Black

by Tzalmavet



Category: Find Me (OFF Fangame)
Genre: Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 05:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16257503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tzalmavet/pseuds/Tzalmavet
Summary: The Batter is left alone for a night in the funhouse.





	Pitched Black

The puppeteer was out.

The Batter sat on the floor, deep inside the funhouse, a yellow save block floating close by to his right.  The floor was cold and damp, large sections of it and the walls warped and stained black, and dusty, rotting stage curtains hung like cobwebs from the ceiling.  It was very dark.  Of course, the funhouse was always dark, but now it seemed even _darker._   Even the normally-bright yellow of the save block looked muddy and ominous.

His arms were wrapped tightly around his body, and his legs were drawn up to his chest.  His puppeteer had left him there hours ago, and he'd barely moved an inch since.  The Batter was free to wander as he pleased when his puppeteer took leave, and he often did; but this time, he didn't dare take more than a step off-course.

If he strayed, Jadon was waiting for him.

Of course, the Batter couldn't _see_ Jadon or anyone else in the room, but he couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on him-- _watching._   He was tired from a long day of wandering aimlessly through the accursed District, and restless from sitting in one place for so long.  But still, he didn't dare fall asleep or attempt to flee.

Through the thick veil of darkness shrouding the room, he swore he saw something moving in the corners of his vision.  It definitely could've been an illusion created by the intensity of the darkness and his tired brain, but he wasn't certain.  He also swore he heard Jadon's voice laughing at him, but _that_ could've been the stale air moving through the vents of the building.  
The Batter squirmed.  Was Jadon touching him, or was he hallucinating?  Was he feeling his clothes move against his body and overreacting?  Was his skin crawling from dread alone?  Desperately looking himself over, he _thought_ he didn't see any fingers creeping over the white of his uniform, but wasn't sure.  With the room so black and so quiet, it was hard to identify anything with any of his senses.  He couldn't prove that Jadon was there.  He couldn't afford to take a chance that he wasn't.

The Batter tried to get a hold of himself.  The world had rules, and everybody living there followed them, whether they were aware of them or not.  And according to those rules, when his puppeteer was gone, no enemy could harm him; the guardians kept their distance, and impure spirits fled at the sight of his bat.  Not to mention that, ever since the incident in the theatre, when he was cloaked in that mysterious blue light and torn from Jadon's grasp, the guardian had been unable to steal him from his puppeteer.  By all means, the Batter should have been perfectly safe.

However, although he knew Jadon couldn't _control_ him anymore, that didn't mean Jadon couldn't do  _other things_ to him.  The Batter was a simple man, but he was by no means a fool.  The darkness in the room hardly compared to the darkness he'd seen in Jadon's heart when he'd felt his corrupt power manipulating his body.  His senses used to detect impurity were so overwhelmed during the experience that he nearly threw up onstage, and the foul intentions he'd sensed when Jadon's mind was so close to his own were still sending chills up his spine.

If Jadon was watching him, the Batter knew he was thoroughly enjoying his distress.  Jadon wouldn't harm him, but the Batter did _not_ want to find out exactly how far that rule could be stretched.  He didn't want to even _think_ of what Jadon might do to him if he let his guard down.

But still, the Batter was terribly tired.  So much of his strength came from his puppeteer, and he knew he'd need to sleep to regain any power without them.  As he was, he was far too weak to fend off a District guardian.

The Batter frowned.  His body was sounding alarms, making his heart tremble, but was Jadon really _right there?_   The Batter cast his gaze deep into the blackness.  He stared with wide eyes for several minutes, glancing around, probing hard for any sign of Jadon's presence.  There wasn't any.  His vision was clear, and his vision told him that he was alone.

The Batter caught himself before he was able to loose a sigh of relief.  Jadon was no dumb ghoul-- he was crafty, and certainly had countless tricks up his sleeve.  The Batter had no idea where or how Jadon could possibly be hiding in the room, but he wasn't going to underestimate him.  Testingly, cautiously, the Batter shut his eyes and slowly let his shoulders relax, making sure to keep his mind wide awake.  If Jadon really _was_ watching him, he just might fall for it and come out of his hiding place.

Silence.

The seconds crawled by agonizingly slow, each one feeling like an hour in of itself.  The feeling of being watched didn't leave, but the Batter clung to the hope that it was just his imagination and he'd be able to fall asleep for real, soon.  At this point, he would've done almost anything for a good rest.

Soon it was minutes crawling past.  Each one was nerve-wracking, and also devoid of absolutely anything happening to him.  But he _still_ wasn't positive that Jadon wasn't there.  He wanted sleep, but he kept waiting.

Then something touched the Batter's face.  It was close to his left ear, and so light that he barely felt it disturb the little hairs on his cheek.  The Batter wanted to jump away that instant and see what was touching him, but he resisted.  He had to be _certain_ it wasn't his mind playing tricks on him.  He didn't want to waste any of his energy on false alarms.  He kept his face straight, and his breathing calm.

The something touching his face lingered there for a while, before it started to move.  He didn't feel any heat coming off of it, and the slowness with which it was moving was driving him up a wall.  The Batter's toes curled in his shoes.  In his mind's eye, he could picture Jadon hovering silently in front of him, delicately dragging one of his ghastly white fingers across the Batter's face with perverse delight.  But the Batter couldn't give in to fear just yet.  _Maybe it's only a bug,_ he thought to himself, keeping his façade of composure in place.

At a snail's pace, the something trailed along his jaw, softly and steadily making its way across his cheek.  Sweat started to bead on the Batter's forehead.  The something was moving too deliberately to be an insect or spectre, and its edge felt a little _too much_ like that of a fingertip.  The Batter was fighting a losing battle to not panic.  He couldn't stop himself from shivering at the touch.  His eyebrows furrowed.  He tried to come up with something, _anything_ besides Jadon that could've been touching him.  The something moved to the outer edge of his lips, gently dipping into the corner of his mouth.

The Batter lost it.  His eyes flew open and he frantically lashed out at the air in front of him, too frightened to even scream.  He flattened himself against the wall as best he could, and prayed hard that his stress-fried brain would forget whatever unspeakable thing Jadon was going to do to him.

Except, Jadon wasn't there.

Sweat and adrenaline soaking his body, the Batter's wild eyes quickly gathered that the room was as empty as it had been before.  He realized that his mouth had fallen open and inhaled deeply, taking sharp breaths and shredding the awful quiet of the room.  His heart pounded so hard he could barely hear anything else.  He kept looking around, desperate to find what had touched him, but he still wasn't seeing any sign of Jadon.  
The Batter pressed his palms into the cold floor.  Jadon wasn't there.  _Jadon wasn't there._   The Batter blinked slowly, waiting for blessed relief to spread through him and knock him out until his puppeteer returned.

But then, he heard a laugh.

The Batter's blood turned cold.  That laugh echoed off the walls of the room and rang in his ears, hammering in that it was no mere hallucination before it petered out and left him in silence once more.  The Batter was frozen in place.  He didn't dare make another noise.  He felt those eyes on him again, and he found his head tilting up to stare at the ceiling.  
Up there, in a corner, was a shadowy spot that _hadn't been there before._   It was so dark, he couldn't tell if it were a stain or a physical mass.  He saw no glint of pink or purple, no eyes at all, but the feeling of being watched only got worse and worse the longer he looked at it.

The Batter hung his head in despair.  He drew his arms and legs as close to his body as he could, holding himself so tightly he could barely breathe.  He gazed miserably at the floor from between his hat and knees, hoping that he was only imagining the feeling of Jadon tugging lightly at the hems of his tunic and pants, hoping that he was only imagining the sound of Jadon's cruel laughter, and hoping that the feeling of being stared at so intensely would just go away.

He didn't know how many hours he was stuck like that, tortured by ghosts of sensations that were only amplified by the crushing darkness.  All he could do was wait for his puppeteer to return.  He ached for sleep, his eyelids heavy and tender, and his body physically and mentally drained down to its dregs.  For a small eternity, his only solace was in that he was too exhausted to react anymore.

He almost didn't notice it, but the Batter swore he noticed the room suddenly getting brighter.  He lifted his head, and saw that the walls were back to their typical shade of dingy blue, and the save block was a nice, cheery yellow again.  The mass of shadow in the ceiling corner was gone.  The Batter felt something go taut at the very core of his being, like a rubber band, and realized what had happened.

**His puppeteer was back!**

His add-ons materialized in the air above him, their familiar glow driving the shadows even further away.  The Batter sprang to his feet, his vigor returned full force.  His frustration at the puppeteer for taking so long to come back was quickly overwhelmed by the fresh energy in his body and relief about his solitary ordeal finally being over.

The puppeteer gave a silent order for him to exit the little room, and the Batter ran out of there as fast as he could.


End file.
